Midnight Murder
by airwolf addict
Summary: Story Sixteen. A mysterious murder occurs, bringing old friends back together, but will they be able to figure out the reason of the killing without getting themselves killed too? Contains Characters introduced in season 2 episode HX-1.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

String sat alone in the dark hangar. Only a single light above was on. "Why did I volunteer for this?" he asked aloud. He knew why though; Dom had been grumbling about the amount of paperwork there was to be done and filed for taxes. Having been in the hospital for seven weeks and under Caitlin's orders resting and recuperating at the cabin for another week, he hadn't been at the hangar to help with much of anything lately. He felt that he owed Dom for the tireless hours he spent at the hospital with him, that was why he was sitting here at 7:30 in the evening, but only sitting. He had done every possible other thing before coming in here, and he still wasn't getting anything done. True, taxes and paperwork weren't his strongpoint, but he'd done absolutely nothing.

A sudden thought occurred to him. Seven thirty wasn't too late, and he needed to talk to her. It'd been about three years. Wow, three years already? He really needed to keep in touch better. Picking up the phone, he dialed her number.

"Hello?" a tired sounding answered.

"Ellie, it's String," he started. It had been so long; what did he say?

"Hey, what's up?"

"I, uh, just wanted to talk."

"Oh, ok. What do you want to talk about?"

He thought for a topic, raking his brain for any brilliant ideas, or something that might interest her somewhat. "Saint John."

A long sigh came from the other end. "Look, I'm sorry, but Arthur isn't home yet, and I gotta go; I'll talk to you later."

He had thought the topic would interest her. "Ellie, wait."

"He's gone. Forget it. Accept it. Don't torture yourself after all these years."

"Ellie, he's not…" but the line was already dead.

He hung up the receiver harder than necessary. That hadn't gone well. He looked at the enormous pile in front of him then back down at his watch. He had better get started if he was ever going to get home.

\A/

Caitlin tucked Chance into a bed an made herself a cup of coffee. Sitting on the hearth, she grabbed her book and flipped to her page. String had been putting off that work all day, but she planned to wait up for him, if he ever came home. He had promised he would do some of the paperwork, and being honest to a fault, he would, but he'd never said anything about doing it quickly.

She had started to doze, long since having finishing her coffee, when String slipped in the door silently. He had started up the stairs when he saw his wife leaned against the stone fireplace, and went back down to gently wake her.

"You're gonna be sore if you sleep there."

She blinked a few times. "Yeah," she said stretching her cramping muscles, "I think you're right."

"Come on, let's get to bed." He silently padded up the stairs followed by Caitlin.

\A/

Saint John stepped into the bathroom to take a shower; towels littered the ground. Afterwards, he went to fix breakfast, only to find every single dish was dirty. He let out a long breath. Somebody was going to have to start doing a couple chores around here. Le appeared in the doorway looking for breakfast.

"You do the dishes, and I'll fix breakfast after I take care of the towels."

Le mumbled an 'ok.' He didn't want to do the dishes, but this early he didn't want to do anything, and obviously the dishes weren't going to clean themselves. He'd sure hoped, but they still sat in the sink just as dirty as when he had left them. He grabbed the soap and sponge and set to work.

Twenty minutes later there was a noticeable difference in the apartment. It wasn't clean, but it sure was a lot better. What would be ideal, would be to have someone to stay home and take care of the house, but Saint John had work and Le had school so things would just stay the same.

\A/

At the hangar, Dom was pleasantly surprised to find all the paperwork in order and everyone else already there.

He reached for the ringing phone, the first call of the day. "Santini Air," he said into the receiver. Only a few minutes later, he was adding work to their schedule. He answered the phone once more on his way out. "String, there's some lady on the phone, and you best not keep her waiting; she sounds upset."

He rolled his eyes in disgust. Why did they want him? He wasn't exactly known for his tactfulness, so why did all the problem customers want to speak to him? Interrupting his conversation, he walked back inside the hangar to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"It's Ellie," the tearful voice sobbed on the other end.

"Ellie, are you alright?"

She didn't answer his question, but instead proceeded with her own. "Do you still work for the FIRM?"

No answer.

"Come on String, we all knew you did."

"Why?" he asked without actually answering her question.

"Because I was hoping maybe you knew some of the higher ups." Emotion flooded into her voice again. "Arthur's dead."

Arthur was dead? Why would anyone want him dead? The only reasonable explanation was some accident like a car wreck, something like that, but that wouldn't involve the FIRM though.

"He was killed in his office last night," she sniffed, "All the cops think it was suicide, and the only fingerprints are his, but he wouldn't kill himself. He seemed perfectly fine yesterday; I got worried when he wasn't home on time, but you know how downtown traffic is sometimes. Then this…" her voice trailed off into hiccupping sobs.

"I'll see what I can do," he promised.

"Thanks String, I don't want whoever did this to get away clean."

"I'll find something. Talk to you later." He hung of the phone as Dominc reentered.

"So? Any business?'

"Yeah, but I'm thinking more the Lady kind of business."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Michael sat down in his plush, white leather office chair and spun around to watch the activity outside. It felt good to have nothing to do, yet. But if he had nothing to do now, most likely he'd have lots to do later.

Marella entered the office bringing coffee and a message. He thanked her for the warm brew.

"Hawke is on the phone, said he needs to speak with you."

"Thank you," he said appreciatively before picking up the extension in his office.

"Good morning," Michael greeted.

"For some."

Sheesh, what was his problem? Wasn't it still kind of early for that kind of cynicism?

"What do you need?"

"An investigation on a homicide."

Somebody was dead, the question, who? Even Stringfellow Hawke, master of covering all emotions common to man, wouldn't be that put together if it were someone in his family.

"Ellie Mae, an independent contractor from Vietnam. Her husband Arthur is dead. The cops think suicide, but she wants a second opinion. I've come to the best, expecting the best.

He could vaguely remember his mentioning Ellie Mae before, and he could look it up in their computer files, but they didn't just go around giving second opinions. "I'd like to help, but we can't send in a team just because she doesn't want to think her husband killed himself."

"I understand that, but at least get me onto the scene then. She doesn't have any reason to think he was even considering suicide, and judging by the little I saw last time I saw them, which admittedly was a while ago, I wouldn't think any differently."

Michael looked over his empty desk and thought briefly. "Alright, I'll see what I can do."

String hung up the phone in satisfaction. Michael could do just about anything if he put his mind to it.

\A/

"But being married to an accountant isn't exactly Saturday night in Da Nang with Saint John Hawke," she said with a slight laugh, but there was something more to it. Regret?

"At least you're happy."

She gave a half smile and kind of shrugged.

"We had it all, he and I."

"You had more than that."

"My one night of folly with Captain Mace Taggert. Boy, Ellie girl, did you blow it." She let out a short sigh. "A lover's quarrel with Saint John Hawke, the guy you always dreamed of… Then a one night stand with Mace because we had a fight and too much wine, and bingo, our future's down the tubes.

"String, why in the hell are you bringing him back into my life?" she demanded, a single tear glistening in her eye as she couch down beside him and reclaimed her blonde haired toddler.

"Ellie, Ellie, he's not dead."

"String…"

"I thing he pulled off that aircraft raid."

"No. Dear god String, give yourself a break. He's gone. Accept it. Forget it. I mean don't torture yourself after all these years," she almost started to cry.

There was no doubt about it; she wished things had been different. She wasn't unhappy with her life; she was content enough with it, and he certainly hadn't helped by bringing back memories from Vietnam, but she definitely had her regrets.

\A/

He should tell Ellie about Saint John as he'd planned to do the other night, but now wasn't the right time; it would have to wait.

\A/

Le waited outside for someone to pick him up from school. At last, Saint John's vehicle pulled up. Climbing into the front seat, he greeted, "hi, uh, Uncle String."

"Saint John is flying for a commercial and Cait already took the jeep," he explained.

"Oh, ok."

They rode in silence back to the hangar. "I have some work to do," he said as he picked up the phone, "would you be alright here alone until somebody gets back?"

"Sure." With that, he scrambled off to find something to do.

The phone rang several times before Michael himself answered it.

"Have you gotten anything yet?" String queried.

"I can meet you at the A&M Accounting in thirty minutes, and we can take a look."

"Alright," he said, about to hang up.

"Wait. Is anyone else coming? You know, for security passes."

He looked about the hangar. "No, just me." Le didn't need to be in any way involved and no one else was around.

Arriving at the office, he sat outside, waiting for Michael to show up. Eventually, they were both ready to walk up stairs to the crime scene.

After checking in with the on duty police officer, they ducked under the yellow tape into the office previously belonging to Arthur. How did he get involved with this? Michael wondered to himself. Dealing with people that were alive was plenty of work for him; homicides were definitely not the routine work. He wouldn't even be here except under Hawke's requests. It sounded like he thought it was important, but at first glance suicide seemed like the only reasonable explanation.

A cold lifeless body still lay on the floor, a spattering of blood marked the left side of his chest where the single bullet had gone through, but otherwise he was completely uninjured. The murder weapon lay zip locked on the desk.

String took a careful look at the man then the gun. "Have they ran an autopsy yet?"

"No we haven't," the officer answered. "We were going to earlier this morning until my buddy Michael here asked for a quick look at the victim this morning. We thought it'd be easiest if everything was in its original position. Except the weapon, of course, has already been moved."

After they had begun the autopsy, String came back in to question them and the results so far.

"We haven't pulled the bullet, but it looks to be lodged right about here," she explained showing her sketch.

"Something's not right here. Either that isn't the murder weapon or somebody else shot him. Most likely someone else."

She turned back to pilot. "Like I said before we haven't finished the autopsy, but I'm more than willing to here your opinions."

"First off, if I were going to kill myself, a bullet to the head would be a lot more likely than the chest. Secondly, with that gun, the bullet would have gone all the way through. It needs to be a lower velocity gun or a longer distance."

"The fingerprints," she reminded him.

"Could have been staged, and you said there wasn't any record of him ever owning a gun of any kind didn't you?"

"Yes, but people who are willing to kill themselves don't always do everything perfectly legal," she retorted, angry that he might just prove her wrong. Who was this guy anyway? He didn't even look like he was with the police, just some normal guy off the streets. Who was he to waltz right in and tell them that they were all wrong? They hadn't even come up with an official report yet, still in the stages of guessing until they finished running all the tests, and he immediately thought he could pinpoint exactly what happened. He probably hadn't much experience with this kind of thing anyway. The only likely way of him knowing much of anything about this kind of death was if he'd served in Vietnam, but he looked a little young for most of that action. "Your points are possible, Mr. Hawke, but where then is the murderer, and how do you find him? Why would they even want to kill an accountant? It wasn't like they had messed with any of the money or books as far as she knew. "I'm sorry, but until there is evidence for your hunches," she emphasized hunches emphatically, "We will continue with the theory of suicide. I've got the fingerprints and the gun, what more evidence do I need?"

"I've been around guns enough to know that something isn't right here. Whether you honestly don't believe it, or you just don't want to doesn't matter to me. Do whatever you want. It wasn't suicide, and I am going to prove it."

"Just how do you plan to do that?" she challenged.

"I have my ways."

Michael escorted Hawke out of the building before he started telling 'his ways.' As they stepped down the last stair, Michael began in a conversational tone saying, "You really think that was planned?" He hadn't really been able to do much observation for himself to know his thoughts.

"Yeah. I've been shot with one of those before; it's going all the way through unless you're pretty far away or it lodges against the bone. Neither was the case there. Honestly, do you think he could have shot himself in the chest that neatly and precisely? I personally don't; I'm not even sure I could. One bullet to the head though, and you can say goodbye. Whoever the murder was had a reason for killing him, even if it wasn't extremely major, and he's a damn good shot, but he needs to work on planting his evidence a little better."

"Who and why then?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out, and I'm going to need your help doing it."

Michael saw the determination glitter in Hawke's eyes. Whoever this mysterious murderer was, he'd better look out because all hell was likely to break loose if Stringfellow Hawke got to him. "Who is this Ellie that you are so set on helping?"

Hawke looked up in surprise that quickly subsided; Michael was most likely wanting a personal story not whatever the computer he had undoubtedly already checked had said. "A good friend and an even better one of Saint John's."

Michael asked for more.

"All the way back in Nam. It was a long time ago. I called her to talk last night, and this morning I got a call from her with the news."

"How did she think you were going to help?"

"She knows I work for the FIRM, or at least that I did." Having enough of the questions, Hawke excused himself. "If you'll excuse me, I have a murderer to find."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Ellie saw String coming long before he got there. Ok, maybe she'd been waiting on him, but nonetheless, she greeted him just as he stepped onto the porch.

"Was I right?" she asked.

"They still working on getting enough proof to say it wasn't suicidal, but I'm almost positive he was killed by someone else."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one who thinks that."

"I want to find whoever did it, but it'll take some time and some help."

"I'll do anything you need me to," she volunteered, "and of course you've got all those FIRM guys," she added, soon realizing he probably wouldn't need her to do anything. She did wish there was something to do though. Lately there just hadn't been much of anything to do.

"I know, but there is someone else-Saint John."

She hastily blinked back a tear that threatened to roll down her cheek. She'd just lost Arthur, why'd he have to pick now to bring up his obsession of finding Saint John, the other man she'd loved and lost.

"He's been MIA since Vietnam for nineteen years String."

"He's alive," String insisted.

"I know you think he is alive, but whether he is or not, he's not going to be able to help in this." She was already beginning to regret asking him for help; he would search for his missing brother until the day he died, and that was his life goal.

"He lived at my cabin until twenty on months ago. That's what I tried to tell you last night. Actually somebody at the FIRM found him, and I tried to go save him before the helicopter explosion that almost killed Dom and me, but he's back in the States, and he has an apartment not too far from here. I know I should have you sooner, but… "

"You aren't making any sense. Even if you did find him a year ago, that would have been eighteen years, and how is he back if you were in the hospital?"

"Two years after I had talked to you last about him, Michael, my friend at the FIRM, located him. Dom and I went to go save him, but there was bomb in the chopper. A guy named Mike Rivers and Caitlin went to save him. He and his Amerasian son lived with me at the cabin until twenty one months ago when I went on a mission that left everybody thinking I was dead. Saint John got an apartment because he couldn't handle living at the cabin, while Le, his son, and Caitlin stayed. It wasn't until three months later that things changed. Caitlin found out that she was pregnant with our baby, and was just about to tell everybody when I showed up. We got engaged and I found out about the baby the same night. Even after twelve weeks in the hospital, I was told I'd never fly again. Caitlin promised me we'd work through it, and I was getting better, but not fast enough. We worked through our issues though and got married about a year ago, and Saint John stayed at his apartment in town."

She stared in disbelief. So much had changed; she didn't think she'd ever heard him say that much at once, nor that he'd overcome his fear of being jinxed long enough to have a family of his own, and Saint John was actually living back in the States again, not MIA anymore. Shocked and surprised, but overjoyed, she didn't fight the overwhelming urge to hug him. "I'm happy for you, String. And yes you certainly may bring your brother in to help, on one condition."

"What?"

"I get to see him first."

"It's a deal."

\A/

Ellie sat next to String in the car. "When'd you get this?"

"It'd borrowed; I only own a motorcycle. Saint John just doesn't know I'm borrowing it yet."

Arriving back at the hangar, String led her in as the jeep pulled up. "Coming in now is my wife Caitlin and our son Chance. Dom and Saint John should be back pretty soon, so just make yourself at home in the meantime."

Ten minutes later, the Jet Ranger landed and Saint John slid out from the right side. Ellie ran to greet him with a hug and kiss like it had been a long summer that she had missed him and not seen him instead of nearly twenty years. "Saint John Hawke, it's really you." He had changed some and bore scares that he hadn't back then, but it was definitely the same Saint John Hawke.

His surprised look only grew when he realized who it was. "Ellie Mae. I haven't seen you in an eternity." He returned the hug.

"You and I have some catching up to do when String finishes with you."

"When String is finished with me?"

Seriousness returned. "My husband," she started.

His heart plummeted at the words. So much could change in so long, but he couldn't help thinking of her as his little Ellie back in Nam.

"Arthur's dead. The cops think it was suicide, but I disagree, and your brother agrees with me. He said that you would find the killer."

He nodded solemnly. "We had better get started then." Saint John rejoined his brother inside the hangar. "We're looking for killers now?"

"Yeah," String answered simply.

"So what's he look like, all that stuff?"

"I have no idea; I've never even seen the man."

"Then how are we supposed to find him?" Saint John asked. "We have about as much chance finding him as we do finding hot coco in the arctic."

"I've got a plan, don't worry."

Saint John shook his head in disbelief. "You better brother, cuz I'm not going door to door asking for murderers."

"You been hanging out with Mike again?"

"Yeah, why? You have a problem with that or something?"

"Yeah. You're starting to sound like him."

Saint John shot him a glare that String could have done so much better.

"If you're going to do that, pick different company; your glares are getting worse."

"Whatever. Let's go find John Doe."

"First we have to find El Blanco."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Michael sat at his desk awaiting the arrival of the duo who planned to foil a murder case, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what they were planning. How do you find a guy that had gone to such extreme measures not to be found? Even if he wasn't as professional as he wanted them to think like Hawke had suggested, he was still pretty good.

\A/

"Who was the gal?" Dominic asked Caitlin after Ellie had left. "Obviously they knew each other, but you shoulda seen the look on that boy's face when she said 'my husband'."

"I didn't get the full autobiography, but I think they knew each other from Vietnam." She shook her head. "Sorry, but now you know about as much as I do. Her husband was killed and Saint John and String are going to try finding out who killed him."

"Great. They're going to find a killer, and they don't even have a clue who he is. That's just wonderful."

\A/

"No," Michael stated firmly. "You're not going in there asking to get yourself shot."

"We're trying it either way, but I'd be helpful if you were behind us."

"It's just too risky," Michael argued.

"Been through worse," Saint John rejoined.

"Listen, it's an accounting office and they'll need accountants. If when they hire someone it happens to be one of us then we can have the inside edge. Whoever it was that killed Arthur will most likely come back unless they just didn't like him, but I heard he didn't have much of a social life, so why would anyone dislike him?"

"Fine," he conceded. Hawke was right. It was risky, but they were less likely to get themselves shot than some innocent individual who thought they were getting a safe job.

The next morning Saint John applied for a job at the accounting office. After filling out his application, he turned it in.

"Thank you," the receptionist said. "You should get a call within a week."

With much persuasion, Mike also filled out the necessary paperwork to apply. Meeting back up with the Hawke brothers, he said, "You guys better make sure I don't get that job. Airforce and FIRM work is enough.

"Don't worry Mikey," Saint John teased, "they wouldn't keep you long once they learned you can't add."

"Then why's your brother applying? I heard he isn't very good at math either."

"He's not one for deskwork," Saint John admitted readily, "but they can find themselves a real accountant once this is over. We just have to have options. It'd be my luck that they'll pick me. I have the ability, but I'd probably go crazy sitting in an oversized office chair at a desk all day."

\A/

A Week Later…

The phone rang; String was the first to reach it.

"Stringfellow Hawke?"

"Yes mam, that's me."

You had applied for a job at A&M Accounting; I was just calling to inform you that you go the job."

"Thank you. When do I start?"

"Monday morning at ten."

"Alright, I'll see you then." He hung up the phone.

"So?" Saint John asked.

"I got the job." He was already beginning to hate his own plan.

\A/

Monday morning came all too fast. String came down the stairs from the loft dressed in a well tailored grey suit.

"You look nice," Caitlin admired. "We should get you all dressed up more often."

"Yeah and you need to learn to lie better," he retorted grumpily.

"I'm not lying. You really do look good, good enough to eat." Her lips touched his briefly before she walked to the other side of the room to finish setting the table; her lips still tasted like the strong coffee she'd been sipping before he'd come down.

"I still think you're lying. I can't see why I have to get all dressed up to go to work anyway."

"Because you're not going to be crawling around under helicopters getting your hair all greasy."

"I think, no, I know that is preferable."

"Oh, you'll be fine."

"Sure, that's what you said before I had to spend another week and a half in the hospital, and I came pretty close to loosing all sanity then."

She handed over the large coffee mug. "Then because you're doing this because you want to help a good friend, not just because you grumpy old wife made you."

"You're not old, not even grumpy, most of the time," he added with a wicked grin in a low undertone.

She ignored his latest statement, knowing she'd set herself up on that one and continued. "Maybe you won't even have to be there long. Now come and eat something. You'll have to leave soon."

He took his seat and began eating. Maybe she was right. Maybe he wouldn't have to stay long at all.

\A/

Saint John came out from under the Jet Ranger upon hearing his brother's arrival. "How was it?"

"Horrible. I had nothing to do all day but add and subtract. Can't we switch or something? Hey," he said noting how late it was, "what are you doing here anyway? The hangar should have been closed an hour and a half ago."

"It did, and everyone went home but me. I've been up here trying to finish so that you can fly home tonight."

"You about done?"

"Yeah, give me ten minutes and she'll be right as rain."

"I could help," String offered.

"In that fancy garb? I don't think so, and by the time you get changed into a pair of overalls I'll be finished."

"If you're sure." He still eyed the overalls as if figuring whether he could be dressed in time to do anything useful.

Saint John had never seen his brother this anxious for work around the hangar. "I'm almost done now, so go ahead and get your stuff together."

"I'm ready as soon as you are."

\A/

The next days went pretty much the same way. "I can't handle all this paperwork all day long." He slammed the coffee mug down with such incredible force it was a miracle that it didn't shatter into a million tiny pieces. "I don't care how good or bad of an idea his was, I can't do it any longer."

"String," Caitlin soothed, "Just give it a little more time." In all reality, she wouldn't mind him coming back to the usual business at Santini Air; they could use the help, and he hadn't been in a good mood ever since he had started the job, but she also knew how important it was to him that he helped Ellie.

"Tell you what, finish what you can, but bring whatever you can't reasonably finish home and I'll help."

He declined. "No. It wouldn't be fair. I came up with this idea; I need to do it myself."

"I insist. We all knew this was going to be tough from the beginning, but that's what family's for, to help you when things aren't easy."

"Alright thanks. You're a lifesaver, and I'm sorry you've had to listen to my ranting."

"That's another thing families do."

"Only cause they have to claim me," he remarked dryly.

"I love you all the same; we all do."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

String made his way to his office like he belonged, but he knew he didn't. Nevertheless, he was here, and he had a job to do. He just hoped it was almost over. Having been working there for nearly a month and a half was more than plenty accounting for one lifetime.

"Mr. Hawke," his assistant Christen announced, "There are two parties waiting for you."

"Go ahead and send the first one in please," he answered in a professional businesslike tone.

"Yes, sir."

It was nice having someone to answer the phone for you, but occasionally he had to come up with some excuse just to get up out of his chair, and with her offering to do everything but the accounting work, the one thing he wanted her to do, it wasn't always easy.

An elderly couple came in and took their seats.

\A/

Saint John drove up to the hangar late that morning. "Sorry I'm late. What fun did I miss?"

"Just picking out jobs for the day. Everything's been taken but one, so you get to be the lucky one to work on the Stearman," Caitlin answered.

Joy. He was going to have to learn to get to work on time.

\A/

Waiting patiently on the elderly couple to leave, Hawke jotted down a few notes for him to work out later.

The next customer wasted no time coming in. "Where's the fella who used at have this office?"

"He isn't here anymore. Is there something I can help you with?" he asked hiding the growing impatience. Something about this guy just didn't add up.

"Are you the new reg round here or jist some intern?"

Inconspicuously, he studied him carefully as he answered. "I'm the new regular until somebody decides differently, but that doesn't matter; what's your business?"

"I come to make you a deal. Me and my boys got some money. We'd like you to put it in a special account. We'll pay you twice the normal rate for it plus an added bonus, but a few rules are gonna have ta slide."

"Which rules?" Hawke asked noncommittally. He couldn't seem too eager, but this was most likely the guy he was looking for.

"This needs to be a very private account, only me and you know bout it. Secondly, I also need it to be insured higher than the usual hundred thou," he continued.

"I can't do that. Even if I wanted to, I don't have enough power to secure anything above the normal limit."

"Then personally secure it. With what I'm payin' ya, ya had ought to be able to do at least that much."

"It sounds like a very intriguing deal, but I'm afraid I can't take up your most generous offer, Mr.…What did you say you're name was? Maybe once my title is a little more firmly established."

"I didn't say what my name was, and I don't intend to. I personally thing you should reconsider. I'm talking bout six digit payloads."

"Thank you sir, but I think I'll pass at this time," Hawke rose determinately. "If that is all, may I escort you out? I have other clients waiting, and I can't accept your most generous offer at this time."

"Goody-goodies these days. I can 'escort' myself out, but you don't need to be goin' nowhere."

"I swear I won't tell a soul about our little discussion."

"That's very kind of you Mr. Hawke, but I'd like to make absolutely certain it stays that way." Not even a second later, he pulled a gun from beneath his overcoat and shot one, precise, deadly bullet.

It was just what String had been expecting, but was it enough to save his life? Despite the appearing right handed, he shot left handed. Normally he would have ducked the other way, but he realized seconds too late. All he could do was hope for the best.

Not a single sound was hear other than the dull thud as String hit the floor. The criminal looked across the desk. He wasn't breathing. Smugly laughing to himself, he wiped the room for fingerprints.

"Don't take another step," the security officer ordered. "Drop your weapon and put you hands above your head."

\A/

Saint John wiped the forming beads of sweat off his forehead with a greasy hand. Already regretting doing so, he looked around in search of a clean rag. None was in sight. He walked back inside the hangar to clean up. Inside, Dom flipped lazily through the channels on the old TV set. Saint John pulled a beer from the fridge and set it on the counter.

"Get me one too will ya," Dom requested.

Saint John responded with another bottle. Just as he was turning around, something caught his eye. "Hey Dom, go back a minute."

Dominic flipped the channel back one. "Oh, I see. Channel 4 has a pretty new reporter," he teased.

"Shh."

"Don't you shush me," Dom warned sternly.

Saint John held up a hand, signaling him to be quiet. Dominic looked up at the screen Saint John was staring at so intently.

The blonde reporter repeated her message. "Trouble today at A&M Accounting. One man arrested, one man murdered. Who is this mysterious killer, and is this crime in any way related to the killing six weeks ago?"

Caitlin caught only the tail end if the report, but it was enough to send a steady stream of tears rolling down her face. Dom moved toward her, tear drops dripped down his cheeks, but an angry fire burned in his eyes that threatened whoever this murderer was. "He better hope the police sentence him to death, or I'll take care of it personally," he ground out.

Ellie came in from where she had been waiting outside. A fleeting glance at the headlines running across the bottom of the screen told her why all the sudden grief. Stringfellow Hawke was dead and it was all her fault. She, too, burst into tears. Saint John moved toward her to offer what little comfort he could.

It felt good to be in his warm embrace once more. She hugged him tighter, tears running onto the shoulder of the blue overalls he was wearing. She'd never been as close to String as she had Saint John, but she still loved him and didn't want him dead any more so. Saint John tried to be comforting, but knew he wasn't doing a good job. He had just lost his one and only brother. As kids they'd been inseparable. Even as adults, they had maintained the close bond, but now that String was gone, it was like half of him was missing too. Ellie pried herself away from Saint John; it was harder for her to pull away, realizing how much she still loved him, but he wouldn't ever be able to return the love, especially since she was the reason his brother was killed. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's all my fault." She shook her head silently. "God knows how sorry I am. I should've never come…" she hurried away from the hangar without another word or backwards glance, but Saint John barely even registered her leaving.

\A/

The phone rang the next morning; Caitlin picked it up on the second ring. "Santini Air," she wretchedly.

On the other end, Michael frowned. Why was she so melancholy today? In all honesty, he hadn't even expected to get an answer at the hangar at all. "What's wrong?" he questioned sympathetically.

"What do you think?" she flared irritably.

He truly didn't know. "I don't know. I was just surprised to actually get you at the hangar; I had figured you would be here."

"Stop playing games Michael. What is it you want? Airwolf?" Now that String was dead she didn't have anymore use for her. Leave it to Michael to turn his back on even the largest disasters and be all business. Why would she be there anyway? What good would being at Knightsbridge do?

"Don't worry about it though. I'll be by there in thirty minutes tops." He hung up the phone, still confused. It was probably nothing he told himself, although he knew there had to be more than that. He shrugged it off and went back to his previous task.

\A/

Caitlin tried to bury herself in paperwork, but soon realized most of it was still caught up from when String had worked on it before his short lived accounting career. She wandered aimlessly about the hangar for the next twenty minutes.

Michael's FIRM limo pulled up, immaculately white as always. Marella opened the door for her boss and stepped back. Michael lighted from the limousine doorway, and before he could as much as say a word, String hoisted himself out from the other side.

Caitlin's eyes grew wide at seeing the sight of her dearly missed husband. "Thank God you're alive!" she threw herself to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his lean frame. "You're back," she said as if still trying to convince herself this was really happening. "If this is a dream then I don't ever want to wake up."

"Good thing it's not a dream."

Caitlin quickly withdrew herself. "Are you hurt?" What a stupid question to ask, she told herself. Of course he'd been hurt; yesterday he was pronounce dead on national television, he just came from the hospital, and his arm was all bandaged up. Why would she think he wasn't hurt? His arm was all bandaged up-maybe she shouldn't have hugged him so hard.

"Not very badly," he assured her.

\A/

Everyone gathered around the table at the cabin for dinner. Caitlin carried out a big dish of food and set it in the middle of the table.

"What is it?"

"Vegetarian lasagna," she answered, "and I'll be the first to admit it tastes delicious. My compliments to the chef."

"Why thank you," String appeared from the kitchen with a serving spoon in hand. "Now let's get started. I haven't eaten all day."

Conversation drifted lifelessly from one topic to the next until finally Dom asked the question they all were wondering. "What exactly happened? We all thought you were dead."

"That's what the news reporter said, and with the perfection of that last kill it didn't ever cross my mind to think differently," Mike put in.

"I probably would have ended up just like Arthur if I hadn't known exactly what happened to him. This guy came in, right from the beginning I could tell he didn't add up. He was dressed like upper end Manhattan, but talked like a country kid that never passed fifth grade. When I didn't take his most generous offer, he pulled the gun. If I had noticed he was left handed a little sooner, I might have gotten out of being shot all together, but that probably would have cost me my life."

"How?" Saint John asked. Normally not getting shot was preferred.

"I tried to duck, but the bullet caught me in the shoulder anyway. It hurt like hell, but I was able to act dead long enough for him to think I actually was and press the emergency button of the bottom of the desk."

"So that's how the police caught the criminal. I guess we just missed the part about you being alive."

"I had security call Michael when the button was pushed, and he arranged for my short stay at the FIRM clinic," he finished explaining. "What worried me the most was that you all typically make such a big deal over everything, but not a single one of you showed up this time."

"Believe me, we would have if we had known," Saint John told him.

"Glad to know I'm not forgotten."

"Never forgotten," Caitlin joined.

"This calls for a toast," Michael said, holding up his glass of wine. "To Hawke, to life, and to a job well done."


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

String looked over the newspaper automatically, not really paying attention to what he was reading until a short article above the editorials caught his attention.

It read: Mysterious midnight murder case solved. The murderer, James Cruller, charged with murder and attempted murder, will me held for trial a week from tomorrow. Channel 4 news apologizes for slightly incorrect facts, but claims that was the facts they were given. A&M Accounting will be closed until further notice checking security and procedure safety.

"A paragraph. For how much news coverage that one got I figured it would be more than a small paragraph above the editorials," String said aloud. It was probably better that way. He didn't want people asking him about it, and the less people he had following him, the better safety for the Lady. "It doesn't look like it was Lady business after all, but maybe that's not all bad. We haven't gotten a chance to spend much time at the Lair since that incident where Saint John and Mike rescued Marella and got my antidote."

"Talkin' to yourself?" Dom asked.

"Yeah, I guess so." He slumped back into the folding chair in the outer portion of the hangar just inside the roll door.

"You know, you could stop being so antisocial and come into the office with everyone else," Dominic offered.

"That's ok. I've been enjoying it out here."

"You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," String assured him, "I swear I am. I just haven't even liked the idea of stepping back into an office lately. So much paperwork and getting shot sure didn't help."

"I understand, but remember you're welcome to come join us anytime."

"Ok."

The hangar was unofficially already closed but not locked up yet, but everyone planned to leave pretty soon with that early stunt job in the morning. String skimmed the headlines for anything else of interest. Nothing. He set the paper down and gazed out at the slightly darkening blue sky. If they left soon, he, Chance, and Cait should be able to get back to the cabin just before sunset. Maybe they'd sit out and watch it. His temporary accounting job hadn't left him much time for those kinds of pleasures, and he wondered how some people could do a job like that their whole lives. "Same as some people wonder how I get up at five some mornings just to be ready for a seven o'clock shoot," he thought to himself.

\A/

String drew the bow across the strings one last time to end the song. Chance toddled across the front porch over towards him, smiling broadly.

"You like that?"

He giggled and laid a hand on the cello. "Mo!"

"More?"

"Mo!" he agreed.

Smiling softly as he did so, String brought the Stradivarius back in front of him and resumed playing. Chance dropped down to sit on the ground and stare up in wonder as his father played the beautiful instrument.

Finishing the piece, String gathered the cello and bow and started back inside, "Come on," he called.

Chance put the leaf he had started studying after his father stopped playing down and tottered back inside.

Caitlin set dinner on the table inside and began dishing out servings for each of them. "It's good to have you back at Santini Air," she commented idly.

"It's good to be back, but it's even better to actually get to spend some time up here enjoying it." It'd start getting cold soon, and he was glad he hadn't missed all the calm warm autumn breezes.

"Well, I'm sure glad you're back in a better mood. You were awfully hard to put up with when you had all that work to do."

"Sorry," he said abashedly.

"It looks like things can at least go back to normal for a little while, and this time you didn't even have to get Airwolf involved."

"True. I was pretty sure it was going turn out differently." Especially when that shot caught me in the shoulder, he mentally added. All too well, he remembered the pain that coursed through his entire body. It was all he could do to keep from getting caught, and then he had to think clearly enough to get help before he passed out. Enough of that, he told himself, it was time to enjoy with your family.

\A/

"Santini Air," Dom answered the phone.

"Dominic, it's Michael. Where's Hawke?"

"String or Saint John?"

"You know which I mean," Michael said angrily. "Stringfellow. He could be in grave danger."

"What's he been getting into lately?"

"The murderer that he got arrested is loose. He had a few accomplices that broke him out last night."

"He's…ya know, I'm not sure where he is. Saint John's on a stunt job and Cait went too, but String was supposed to be staying up here and helping me with the hangar."

"Find him," Michael implored, "and quickly."

String casually ambled across the almost deserted hangar.

"I found him," Dom told Michael.

"Keep him in your sight and when the others get back you might want to do the same with them. Zebra squad is already after this guy along with most the city's police squad, but no one has even sighted him yet. Every airport, bus station, and train station is on the look out, but if he's got friends in high places, who knows where he could be by now."

"You think maybe we ought to bring the Lady into the search? She is pretty good at finding people."

"If we haven't found him by tonight, but right now it's too risky with most the city on lookout as it is."

"Keep us updated." Dominic slammed down the phone in frustration. This guy kills an accountant, wounds String, and the police don't even keep tight enough tabs on him to keep him from running away the first night!

"What's that all about?" String asked coolly.

"Your friend from the accounting place could be coming to visit you."

"He's loose?"

"Yeah."

"I risked my neck, got shot, and they can't even hang onto the guy?!" he threw down the newspaper and stormed out of the hangar.

"String wait!"

"I'm tired of waiting."

"String listen. Michael thinks he's coming after you."

"If you see him then you can tell him I'll be waiting."

String didn't stop or even hesitate but continued out the door. Dom followed him out trying to cajole him back to coming back in. String slid the key into the ignition and started the engine. Slamming the gear out of park, he pulled out and started down the road.

"Wait!" Dom yelled after him, but it didn't make any difference.

The jeep sped around the corner towards the outskirts of town.

Dominic let out a long sigh of exasperation and walked back into the office. After scribbling down a quick note to Saint John and Caitlin, he started up the red, white, and blue Jet Ranger and started toward the Lair. He was sure that was where String was headed, and he probably shouldn't be flying after just getting shot the day before.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

String pulled up into the dark cave, pausing briefly to gaze at the beauty that basked in the late afternoon sunlight. "Hey Angel, looks like we've got another little mission if you're up to it." He started a thorough pre-flight check since no one had done one after the latest incident. It looked like everything was alright, no damage. He went to pick up the grey flight suit and change into it.

"Hope you're not planning on going alone," Dom's voice cut through the cool darkness.

"This is my problem."

"Well I'm making it my problem too," Dominic stated finally. "You just got shot; you don't need to be flying."

"It was a graze, and not even a bad one. I'm fine and I am flying," String said defiantly. "Not you or anyone else is going to stop me."

"Then I'm at least going with you."

\A/

Saint John landed the helicopter smoothly onto the black tarmac outside the hangar, and he and Caitlin climbed out. "Dom, we're back."

Only silence greeted them.

"Dom?"

"Look at this," Caitlin said as she picked up a scrap of paper with a message scrawled almost illegibly across it. "Says he took the Jet Ranger to go after String."

"So where'd String go?"

"The note didn't say." She rifled around on the desk for anything that might give them a better clue as to where the others might be. "Check this out," she held the newspaper String had thrown down in his irritated exit. "This says that the murder is being held for trial next week, but whoever was reading didn't seem too happy."

Saint John picked up the phone and dialed the number to Michael's office at Knightsbridge.

"Saint John?"

"Yeah."

"Is your brother there?"

"No. that's what I was about to ask you. Dom left a note saying he took the Jet Ranger after him, but didn't say where he was going."

"Damn," Michael cursed in frustration.

"Care to fill me in?"

"The murderer your brother helped catch broke out of jail last night and I have a strong suspicion he's coming for Hawke. I told Dominic to keep him in sight, so the first think he does is run off."

"Where is he going?"

"I don't know anything for sure, but my best guess is that he plans to find James Cruller, the murderer, and take care of things personally."

"The Lair. He's going to get Airwolf, thanks Michael got to go." Saint John dropped the receiver back on the hook and grabbed Caitlin by the arm, come on, we have to go."

"Where?" Cait asked as she was dragged to the Jet Ranger.

"To the Lair." Mayeb they could join before String got himself more seriously injured, and they could be at least some help.

\A/

Airwolf cleared the chimney of the Lair and screamed off through the sky, offering a banshee challenge. "She's ready to go today," Dom declared from the back. He hadn't gone along on the last couple missions and had missed it; it definitely felt good to soar through the air with the Lady.

"Yeah, and whoever this midnight murderer is better be too, cause I'm going in chain guns ablazing."

"Two miles out there's a plane landing. It could be the one."

Searching the area below, String quickly recognized him as the client he'd had; he hadn't even bothered changing clothes since he broke out of jail.

A string of fire from the chain guns sent him reeling backwards.

"Easy there," Dom warned. "Don't get too cared away 'keeping him honest'."

"There isn't any keeping him honest now; it's too late for that."

"String…"

"Yeah, I know." He punched three buttons, connecting a channel to Michael. "We've got your man. This time I suggest you keeping a hold of him."

"Give me your coordinates and I'll be there as soon as possible."

In the seconds it took him to reach over to the communications board to disconnect the call, James Cruller had made it to a Huey and had anxiously awaited the seconds until he could lift off. "Get back out here and into the open now," String commanded over the loudspeaker.

Instead of obeying, the Huey lifted off into the air and started south.

"Let's race," Dominic chuckled.

As abruptly as it had started south, the Huey turned fully around and fired a sidewinder.

String evaded the missile easily and was about to let off his own when two more came hurtling towards him. Cruller knew he couldn't out fly Airwolf, his only chance was if he could out shoot her, and he was going to make the most of his firepower.

"Two more."

"Radar seeking or infrared?"

"Heat seekers," Dom replied. "Deploying sunbursts."

"Wait." String allowed the missiles to lock onto him as target. "Give me the turbos, Dom."

"Turbos."

Airwolf zipped through the air just under mach two, lower and lower to the ground. Finally one missile didn't make it over the last hilltop and collided violently with the sandy earth below.

"Still one and it's right on our tail," Dominic warned.

"Good."

The missile was gaining on them, closer and closer.

"String do something!" Dom urged.

He continued to allow the missile to dog after him.

"Missile impact in 10...9...8... String! 6...5...4...3...2..." Dom clenched his eyes closed deathly tight and prayed that by some miracle the missile wouldn't hit them, "…1."

Airwolf dropped stomach lurchingly straight down and the heat seeker crashed into the Huey directly ahead of it. The reverberations shook the entire helicopter as Airwolf persisted on the daredevil course straight down. At last they pulled out and hovered neatly just above the green landscape, the burning Huey visible in the distance.

"That was one hell of a ride," Dom commented, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah," String said with a loud sigh, "I guess my problems with him are over.

"I guess it was Lady business after all." Dom looked up at him. They sure couldn't have done it without her. "Arthur killed in the middle of the night to the murderer getting killed not to far from the same time only it is a month and a half later."

"Let's go home, String."

"Yeah, and get some sleep. I've had enough midnight murderers," he said yawning tiredly.


End file.
